


"it wouldn't be unnecessary if it's for you"

by tangentiallly



Category: Cirque du Freak | The Saga of Darren Shan - Darren Shan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: “If it succeeds,” Gannen said quietly, looking away from Kurda. “I won’t let them do that to you.”“Thank you,” Kurda said softly. “Whether you can convince them or not, thank you for having this thought at all.”
Relationships: Kurda Smahlt/Gannen Harst
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	"it wouldn't be unnecessary if it's for you"

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i don't own the saga of darren shan
> 
> a/n: i wrote this story like .... 6, or 7 years ago, published on a forum that was no longer up, and years later i decided to translate my own fic into english and put it up here, so here we are. i've always thought Kurda and Gannen would have a good dynamic.

Ideals and visions often sound grand and wonderful, but they never come with a step-by-step guide on how to achieve them. Just like the legends that tell the glorious tales of chivalry and knighthood, but they never mention the nitty gritty details. Peace and eventual union between vampires and vampaneze clans was one of those overly idealistic goals, something to look forward to, but it’s an abstract goal and there’s no standard operating procedure written out for one to follow.

But this story isn’t a legendary tale about a hero achieving an idealistic goal. The main protagonist is far from a hero, not even a tragic hero - have you ever heard of a traitor being hailed as a hero? This is just a story of someone trying to achieve such a goal, but ultimately failing.

That, and the other person who made the hard road somewhat more bearable along the way.

* * *

The first step towards peace - well, you have to find vampaneze to talk to, to understand them. Meeting vampaneze wasn’t that hard a task on its own, but just as there were vampires who hate the vampaneze and would not hesitate to eliminate them, there were also vampaneze who felt that way about the vampires. Even those who weren’t overzealous about their hatred sometimes got offended when a vampire didn’t accept a challenge, and he ended up being forced into a duel to death he didn’t want. Kurda had killed a few vampaneze under such occasions - perhaps that’s part of the price of seeking peace between the clans, he thought.

Even those who had no problems coexisting peacefully with vampires often balked at the idea of an eventual union. They didn’t see the need for the union, and didn’t understand what’s the point of spending so much time trying to draw peace treaties when they could just mostly ignore each other. There wasn’t any war on the horizon at the moment, and therefore no need to waste energies on talks of union or peace treaties, they reasoned.

Which - fair enough. Even Kurda himself sometimes had doubts too when he couldn’t fall asleep, the voices inside him asking if this was all necessary - if this was all worth it. But even so, he still stubbornly believed that he wasn’t wrong to have such a goal.

Of course, the Vampire Mountain didn’t exactly have a database on vampaneze, listing which types of vampaneze were war-mongering and which prefer peace. So mostly Kurda had to work with the rumors and news he’d heard over the years, trying to piece together a bigger picture from his scraps of information. Luckily, there were some people who understood the creatures of the night better than the creatures of the night themselves. Not Desmond Tiny - well, he certainly fit the bill, but Kurda had no intention of associating with that meddlesome literal-devil.

* * *

“Lady Evanna,” he bowed his head politely the day that he visited her. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“If you are, I wouldn’t have let you in,” she shrugged easily. There was music from the early 1800s playing in the background that day. The lady of the wild had a very diverse taste in eras when it came to music.

She couldn’t directly interfere in the affairs between the creatures of the night, but she agreed to let him travel alongside her as she met with her vampaneze acquaintances, and suggested to Kurda that he could observe discreetly from nearby if he promised not to intrude upon their conversations. Perhaps he would find out which vampaneze might be sympathetic to his goals this way, find out who to approach later.

Sometimes she would gaze at him with something that almost looked like pity in her eyes, and back then Kurda had simply thought perhaps she just thought he was wasting his time and all his efforts wouldn’t yield anything promising, but decades later he would come to understand that the pity was far beyond that.

* * *

“It’s done,” the vampaneze said as he marked Kurda’s left cheek with three small scars.

The group of vampaneze he was meeting tonight were a relatively friendly group, but before they marked Kurda they had still been pretty skeptical of him. Even after that, Kurda wasn’t expecting complete trust, but at least everyone was willing to debate things reasonably - for some definition of reasonably, anyway. The vampaneze and Kurda talked for hours and everyone only decided to head to rest when it was almost daytime.

“Aside from convincing us, what about your fellow vampires? Do you really think there are enough princes willing to change their minds and sit down and negotiate a union with us?” As everyone else left, a vampaneze called Gannen Harst lingered back and asked Kurda. 

It was a very understandable concern.

“Right now, most of them probably still need much convincing,” Kurda admitted slowly. “But there is one prince who supports some of my ideas, and even mentioned wanting to nominate me for an investiture. I should be able to persuade more vampires to the cause after that.”

“I didn’t know there is already someone amongst the vampire princes supporting this,” Gannen sounded a little surprised. And then he hesitated for a moment, “do you want to go somewhere and talk more?”

When Kurda mentioned the prince who was supportive of his ideas was called Vancha, Gannen looked taken aback for a moment, before schooling in his expression again to his usual calmness. Since the sun was already rising and Kurda was tired after a long night of talk, he didn’t press for more information, and forgot about this reaction of Gannen’s soon enough. Later that morning, they lied side by side in another smaller cave than the one they had been negotiating and debating in earlier, and the conversation topic veered from politics between vampires and vampaneze to other less intense subjects. Kurda found Gannen to be someone he enjoyed talking to - Gannen was practical and logical, and also an honorable vampaneze. He also wasn’t blood-thirsty. Night creatures of this type were always an asset, regardless which clan they belonged to.

Some time during the gradually slowed down conversations, they both fell asleep. The next thing Kurda knew was Gannen was shaking his shoulder lightly, and telling him, slightly apologetically, that he had to leave now. They bade each other goodbye, and Gannen left. Kurda, still lying, half-awake, felt a mixture of surprise and odd but also a little glad at the fact that Gannen had done this. It felt ... weirdly sentimental and friendly, actually. Even amongst the vampaneze willing to negotiate for peace, gestures like this towards a vampire - even a pacifist one - were practically unheard of.

It’s odd, but Kurda found that he didn’t dislike the feeling.

* * *

About Desmond Tiny’s prophecy, Kurda had heard of its rumors before, even if he’d never truly believed it. But then he discovered that all the vampaneze he met believed the prophecy and took it quite seriously, and was forced to reconsider his thoughts on it.

 _Goddamn Desmond Tiny_ , he thought in irritation. _Always the meddler thriving on chaos._

That night he and Gannen met in a bar, and three bottles of whiskey in Gannen told Kurda about the Coffin of Fire. “I’m quite worried,” Gannen confessed. “About the peace between clans, I don’t think we have time to do it slowly now. I used to think, there was no urgency, and nothing would change drastically in a short time anyway. That no war was on the horizon, and instead of rushing to it, I’d rather plan things out meticulously step by step, and take our time waiting and suggest changes to both sides gradually, and maybe we would one day be able to achieve a union.” He sighed. “I thought we had time.”

It was a heavy conversation with lots of information to process, but Kurda couldn’t stop himself from noticing that Gannen used a lot of “we” and “our” when he spoke of the plan, instead of “you” and “your”. However, he pushed that to the back of his mind - he had bigger worries right now.

“Charna’s Guts,” Kurda muttered. What Gannen told him confirmed the truth he had been trying to deny for a long time. “I had tried to come up with some alternatives to counter this situation, but I don’t really have any concrete plans yet.”

Later that night, the skeleton of a concrete plan was born.

“This is a good plan,” Gannen sighed again. “You’re really, really smart. But there is one great flaw in this plan, it’s that whether you succeed or not, what’s waiting for you ...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. 

“If it succeeds, it would be worth it,” Kurda said, trying to sound confident.

“If it succeeds,” Gannen said quietly, looking away from Kurda. “I won’t let them do that to you.” 

“Thank you,” Kurda said softly. “Whether you can convince them or not, thank you for having this thought at all.”

“I meant it,” Gannen said. He sounded like he was trying to repress certain emotions as he spoke.

Kurda studied Gannen. Emotions welled up inside him, and he forced a small smile. “I know,” he replied, and took a sip of his whiskey. “But you and I both know how much the vampaneze hate a traitor, so let’s not lie to ourselves about my chances of surviving this.” He paused, and said, in a quieter voice, “but, really, thank you. I appreciate your thoughts.” _More than you know_. 

“Kurda,” Gannen said, turning back to look Kurda in the eyes. He had a calm, determined look in his eyes now, like he just decided to reveal something important. “I haven’t told you yet, but Tiny said I will be the main protector of Lord of Vampaneze. I’d be quite influential. If the plan succeeds, I will try -”

“Remember, don’t spill blood unnecessarily,” Kurda reminded him, voice soft.

Gannen was silent for a moment. After a few seconds, he said, in a low voice, “it wouldn’t be unnecessary if it’s for you.”

Kurda blinked, caught off guard. “Thank you. No one has ever said that before.”

* * *

Unfortunately, they never had a chance to encounter the dilemma they had discussed that night. Just like they never had a chance to see each other again after that night.

* * *

Things spiralled downwards in a lightning speed after Darren returned to the Vampire Mountain.

“What have you to say in rebuttal of Darren’s claims?”

“At this moment - nothing.”

“Traitor!”

“You have _seen_ this Vampaneze Lord?”

“The Hall of Death.”

* * *

Turns out not following the plan was always a bad idea, some risks were fated to be doomful. But Kurda knew it wasn’t really Darren’s fault, and he had only himself to blame. He was scared and lonely now, even as he tried to not focus on his own immediate execution and tried to focus on worrying about the clans and the war instead, a part of him still couldn’t help be scared for his own fate. Still, his larger worries were about the now inevitable war. The worry left a bitter taste in his mouth - all the efforts these years down the drain .... _stop thinking_ , he told himself. _You couldn’t change anything now._

He thought of Gannen.

_Sorry, I failed. I couldn’t stop the war from happening, and I couldn’t … see you one more time. We didn’t even have a proper goodbye - because that night you said the plan would succeed soon and there was no need for a grand goodbye. Thank you for having faith in me, and I’m sorry I let you down._

Even though he had claimed that he would be fine with his own fate since he’d end up on the stakes regardless of how the plan went, but when he really had to face it, he felt so scared, and so small. Maybe he wasn’t ready to die so soon after all, and in such a disgraceful manner. But what he felt didn’t matter now. At this point, nothing mattered now.

He suddenly remembered how Gannen had promised that he wouldn’t let him be executed if the plan succeeded.

In one of the last moments, Kurda closed his eyes and felt the stake pierced through him.

People often said that before someone dies, they would replay their whole life at a fast speed in their head. But Kurda discovered, right before he lost all consciousness, the only thing replaying in his head was Gannen’s face.

“It wouldn’t be unnecessary if it’s for you,” Gannen had said.


End file.
